


Dollhouse

by IKrose234



Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Alternate Universe - Transcendence, No pairings - Freeform, Set before the twins move back to Gravity Falls, Whoops my hand slipped and sads happened
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-27
Updated: 2015-07-27
Packaged: 2018-04-11 10:42:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,096
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4432517
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IKrose234/pseuds/IKrose234
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Please don’t let them look through the curtains / Picture, Picture, Picture, smile for the picture, pose with your brother, won’t you be a good sister?</p><p>Pacifica’s relationship with her parents has taken the downward spiral of disaster she had known it would come to, ever since that one fateful party, but she didn’t expect it to be the thing they related to.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dollhouse

**Author's Note:**

> This one has actually been around since before Pastures, whoops. Anyways, enjoy some Paz + twins sadness. The song lyrics are from Dollhouse by Melanie Martinez. Happy reading :)

 “No, not that one!”  Pacifica took the dress from her maid’s hands with a sharp word and glare. Maybe her parents were right to bring her on this trip.  Her nerves were running thin, and for spring break they were taking a “family” trip to California, to visit some famous friends her parents apparently kept in touch with.  They had been invited to a party of some kind, and social niceties refused to let them ignore the offer.  

          Thus, Pacifica was left to shoo the servants from her room as she packed her own bags.  She rummaged through rows upon rows of dresses, every shade of every color offered to her.  She wasn’t actually going to the party.  It was “adult time,” as her parents had called it, in a patronizing tone. Pacifica was almost 16, and was more than fine with this decision.  She didn’t plan to spend more time around them than necessary.  However, she was almost positive she would be roped into going somewhere/doing something with the other rich kids, also banned from the get-together.  Who knows, they might throw their own party.  She hoped not.  She was a Northwest, and she would bear any social event with dignity, but that didn’t mean she had to enjoy it.  Being a Northwest also meant she wasn’t allowed to be a shut-in.  She was content to stay in the hotel – the finest they could find in the area – though her parents expected her to jump through the same hoops that they did.  Pacifica was long used to this pattern.  

Her fingers lingered over a lake-foam green dress; she adamantly took it off the rack and stored it in a suitcase.  She didn’t hope for her relationship with her parents to get better – she didn’t dare – but once a year, for a short time, she allowed herself to believe she could escape this life.  Every summer, when the Pines twins returned to Gravity Falls.  The town stirred to life again, coming out of the slumber it seemed to fall into while its favorite pair of siblings were absent. Pacifica still curled her lip at Mabel’s atrocious sweaters, and covered her jeering laugh with a dainty hand at Dipper’s abundant mishaps.  However, somewhere along the way, their dorky charm had dragged her along and now she was  _very_ lost in this strange place they called “friendship.”  One of Mabel’s sweaters was hidden far, far back in the corner her closet, embroidered with a compass showing only the secondary cardinal directions; to reminder her “which way is north-west, and which way is south-east.”  Dipper’s family-and-friends-circle had been sewed into the inside, as well.  She restrained herself from throwing it into her bags, knowing her parents would have it burned on the spot should their eyes fall upon it.  

          It had been a long time since she had seen the twins, Pacifica thought as she plopped onto the floor and leaned against her bed.  Her parents refused to let her into town most days, tightening the iron grip they held over her life at every chance.  She had only seen them twice during the past year – once when she managed to have a free day to run around, and the other when she snuck out and called the female twin with tears streaming down her face. The rest of the year, Mabel made enough phones calls to make up for it, leaving her messages at least every other day.

          Her door opened, and Pacifica scrambled to appear to be doing something.  “Your parents would like to remind you to go to bed early, Ms. Northwest.  Your flight leaves at seven tomorrow morning.”

          “Thank you,” the younger girl dismissed, straightening her pile of skirts.  The maid bowed and the door clicked shut behind her.  The blonde couldn’t find the energy to be annoyed, instead pushing her luggage to the floor in defeat.   _Choose your battles wisely_ , she grumbled mentally. She fell asleep trying not to think about how far away summer felt, and she definitely did  _not_  feel lonely.  

         Oakland was a fairly large city.  Pacifica had seen bigger, granted, but it was much larger than Gravity Falls.  The crowded streets made her feel small, though it only forced her chin higher and her walk conveyed she was the biggest person in the whole city.

          Their hotel was beautiful, the biggest suite on the top floor reserved for them.  Still, her parents turned up their noses when they walked through the door.  She tuned out their complaining and watched the butler ferry dozens of bags from the elevator, enlisting the help of two bellhops.  _You’re only here for two days,_ she reassured herself.

          Pacifica jumped at the sound of a bell, straightening her back and arms flicked to her sides.  Her mother frowned and reprimanded her.  A Northwest woman should always pay attention when someone was talking to them. Then she handed her daughter an undefined amount of cash with a “go shopping with the butler later, when you get bored.”  It wasn’t an offering, it was an order.  She eyed the variety of games lined up next to the plasma screen, and noted the towels stacked neatly should she need one after visiting the downstairs waterpark.  All these activities were crossed off her list, knowing that is she didn’t return with at least ten new outfits, the bell would make another guest appearance.  

          Her parents left for lunch at noon, and Pacifica ventured out onto the boulevard.  The butler gave her a sympathetic glance when she ordered him to stay in the room before giving a respectful bow and stepping aside.  They had an unspoken agreement – he wouldn’t rat her out for leaving unaccompanied, and she treated him like an actual person who had interests and jobs other than minding a sixteen-year-old teenager.  

          Pacifica wasn’t at all familiar with Oakland, but she certainly wasn’t going to admit that.  With the utter confidence of one raised to calm crowds with a glare and host hundreds of people at once, she wandered along the streets, glancing at signs every now and then.  Blending into the crowd was easy.  Much easier than it perhaps should have been, but she reveled in the feeling of being just another person, not a Northwest, just an anonymous person next to you at a cross-walk.  She drifted into an Italian diner some time approaching one.  Her mother would have thrown a fit about the décor, but the restaurant suited Pacifica’s standards well enough.  A few years ago, she would have cringed at the very thought of this place. It became a challenge now – she didn’t care how …  _middle class_ this place was, she was a bigger person now, and  _she was going to eat here if she pleased._

          A hostess took her to a booth with a window view out to the street, before leaving her silverware – was the cutlery always rolled into the napkin in these places? – and a menu.  As an internal voice that sounded perturbingly like her mother began to berate the options, a loud “ _THUD”_ and resulting rattle startled the list from her fingers. Quick reflexes caught her glass  _(A good hostess can’t allow for a stain on her carpet!)_ and turned her incredulous gaze to the window.  Her heart seized a bit when she found a face pressed to the glass, which was fogging from the breath coming from the gaping, grinning mouth.  

          “… Mabel?”  Pacifica blinked a few times and absently touched her head.  She was going insane, it was official; those terrible twins had ruined her to such a degree that she was having hallucinations.

          This Mabel was suddenly a lot more real, though, when she detached herself from the window, flapped her arms wildly, her high-pitched squealing piercing through the glass.  It faded for a second before doubling as the girl barged through the front doors.  She nearly plowed over a waitress, who clung to the nearest booth at the last second to avoid a collision.  Mabel didn’t have the curtesy to slow down, barreling into the blonde at full force. Between Pacifica’s outraged shriek, Mabel’s raucous guffawing, and both of them nearly tumbling to the floor, they garnered plenty a weird looks.  

           _“What are you doing here?”_  Pacifica hissed, shoving the girl out of her personal space.  

          Mabel was still too excited to reply, instead bouncing in the seat, covering her mouth, staring with wide, shining eyes, all the while emitting a high-pitched noised not unlike screeching brakes.  She still wore an oversized sweater, homemade as always, with keyboarding cats in space etched on the front.  Her teeth were still held captive with braces, though the rubber had changed from eye-burning yellow to neon  _not-quite_ -eye-burning pink.  

          “What are  _you_  doing here,” she breathed out, her face conveying the denial that it had definitely lacked while smudging the window.

          “I asked first,” Pacifica frowned – no not  _pouting,_ a Northwest doesn’t  _pout_ , only Pines  _pout –_ but Mabel’s awe-struck expression wasn’t offering much explanation. “My parents had to come out here to do–” Pacifica waved vaguely to the left, “whatever they do.  Plus, California is supposed to be the spring break  _capital_ , so I came along. But what are  _you_  doing here?”

          Mabel could hardly compose herself, smacking her friend’s arm and flailing due to the sudden influx of excited energy.  After another few smacks, Pacifica snarled and slapped away the hand, grabbing the other one and forcing them to be still. The other girl only squealed louder, kicking her legs and deciding she couldn’t support her own weight.  She collapsed onto her back, dragging Pacifica with her, refusing to release her hug turned headlock.

          “Dude, we  _live_  here.”

          Pacifica looked up at the new voice, finding Dipper seated across from them with a slightly confused expression and hands folded on the table.  He looked … well, normal.  At least, more normal than she had seen him in the four years since the Transcendence. His eyes were still gold on black, but his blue-white hat was pulled low to hide them, and he wore the same red and navy-black vest that she had come to characterize him with.  Most noticeably, he was  _visible._   Like, physically there, and actively existing on this plane.  She had to stop herself from reaching out and poking him, if only to make sure.

          “Hey, you’re physical, bro-bro!”  Mabel was equally surprised, though she was more pleasantly so.

          “I’m not going to be for long,” he replied with a wry smile, flashing sharp teeth.  “Not without a deal, at least.  But I’m pretty sure this deserved the effort.”

          No, Pacifica did not find that slightly touching.  She sat up straight, having been freed from Mabel who scuttled around to sit next to her brother.  “I thought you guys lived somewhere called …”

          “Piedmont,” Dipper finished.  “Yeah, we do, but that’s in Oakland.  It’s technically its own city?  Either way, we live really close to Grand Avenue, on the edge of the neighborhood.  We come over here pretty often.”

          “I didn’t realize it was in California,” Pacifica muttered under her breath, slightly thrown off by the realization.  

          “Yeah, it’s super nice!”  Mabel flashed another grin, waving her feet and tapping her hands idly. “Maybe you can come over and you can see  _our_  house for once!  Hey Dip, how much did Dad give us?”  Mabel turned to her brother curiously, bumping their shoulders together.

          “Ever heard of personal space?”  Regardless, Dipper dutifully put up with the abundance of contact. Pacifica didn’t miss the way he leaned into it, just the slightest bit.  “Forty-five dollars,” he declared.

          “How long can you last for lunch?”

          Dipper hummed thoughtfully, glancing over to a tray of food being whisked by.  “Depending on what it is?  Five hours.”

          Pacifica was positive that was more time than they would have had last summer.  Watching him grin when the food arrived, all fangs and flashing eyes and the echo in his voice when he said  **“ _Deal_ ”**sent chills down her spine and – Pacifica was a little freaked out.  She hadn’t  _exactly_  spent much time with this demonic version of the Pines boy, she normally only saw his sister, even if she talked for the both of them.  However, seeing him turn to Mabel only to have sauce smeared on his face, any and all fear left her.  This was the same boy she had known before the Transcendence, who had saved her home from angry spirits while sullenly picking at his bowtie.  

          The three of them talked.  Just talked.  They sat and chattered and laughed and mocked each other like the best of friends, all thoughts of their previous obligations wiped from mind.  Until the end of the meal, of course, when Mabel remember to ask why Pacifica had been eating here.  She didn’t mention the fact she was ignoring her parent’s orders, or that she had little idea of where she was, but Dipper gave her a look like her had already gleaned this.

          Mabel gasped, torn pressing her hands to her cheeks and lunging for the other girl’s hands.  “We could totally go shopping with you!”

          “We can?”

          Mabel elbowed her twin in the stomach without even looking over.  “We came into town to buy some more craft stuff,” she explained.  “So we can buy your stuff and our stuff while we’re out! It’ll be _perfect!”_   Having made her decision, her phone was in hand in the blink of an eye, the twins’ mother picked up on the third ring.

          “Hey, Mom!  So, Dipper and I ran into a friend of ours in town – no not them!  She’s from Gravity Falls!  We  _have_  to hang out, Mom, we  _have to_. No, I don’t have chores!”  Mabel covered the phone for a minute while her mother was still talking, mouthing to her brother  _I have chores?_   He shrugged.

          She continued on the phone for another three minutes, leaving the other two people at the table to glance at each other in awkward silence.  Dipper winced every time she threw out his name, eyes darting over to meet Pacifica’s, realize that without Mabel to fill the lulls in conversation he had no idea what to talk about, then his eyes darted everywhere but ahead.  

          “Where to first,” Mabel grinned and her phone locked with a sense of finality.

          Pacifica had forgotten just how exhausting the Pines twins could be.  Trying (and failing) to keep up with Mabel was like chasing a tornado on foot. Mabel plus Candy and Grenda was  _chaos_ , riddled with sudden bouts of screaming and detours, but there was vaguely method to the madness.  She had underestimated the energy needed to keep up with the twins while they were together.  Dipper spent most of his time in the mindscape, so now that he was physical, it was like the two of them were making up for lost time.  Mabel would dart away without warning, chasing whatever had caught her eye.  Dipper could predict these movements like it was second nature, smoothly switching tracks while Pacifica had to screech to a halt and backpedal.  He might have a reputation as the calmer twin, but when he found something he wanted, he was not going to be deterred.  It did  _not_ help that the twins had completely different interests.

          They came to an intersection, Pacifica several steps behind, before they glanced to each other, nodded and grinned, and turned in opposite directions.  Pacifica slammed on the breaks, suddenly unsure who she was following.   _Mabel,_  her brain immediately supplied, but she turned to the left to find the harsh glow of a red hand.  Cars began zipping past, effectively cutting off that path.  To the right, Dipper was nearly out of sight.  The blonde stumbled after him, grateful when he stopped in front of a display case, going inside the shop moments later.

          The display showcased several tomes of varying ages and covers.   _Of course,_  Pacifica suppressed a groan;  _Dipper went to a book store._   Shelves upon shelves greeted her in the store, a clerk glancing up to whisper a greeting as she passed.  Within ten seconds of being in the store, Dipper had completely vanished. If it wasn’t for the two more hours her phone reassured that the deal covered, Pacifica would have thought the demon had retreated to the mindscape. In the center of the shop, she discovered, was a circular indent filled with comfy sofas and bean-bag chairs. However, none of them held a moody demonic teenager, it seemed.  After another five minutes of searching she found a staircase.  Pacifica had no idea why the store had so much space (which the store front did  _not_ suggest), but on the second floor, she found two recliners wedged into the corner with an end table between them.  Sure enough, the Pines boy was curled into one, nose buried in text.

          Pacific flopped into the chair next to him, gaining a mildly surprised glance.  “I thought you were going to go with Mabel,” he commented.  

          “Traffic,” she wheezed.  She couldn’t bring herself to regret this choice, though.  The calm of the store was soothing; a relief after the constant running and trying to follow two people at once.  Her head lulled to the side and she inspected the book that had reclaimed his attention.  “What are you reading?”

          Dipper glanced back to the cover and read the title of a book she didn’t recognize, the author having the same result, though she hazarded a guess that it was a mystery novel.  “Why do you even need to read?  Aren’t you all-knowing or something?”

          Dipper hummed vaguely.  “Omniscience doesn’t really work like that,” he murmured after a pause.

          “How  _does_ it work?”

          “Annoyingly, and with a lot of confusion and sometimes slime gets  _everywhere_.”

          Pacifica scrunched her features and frowned. “That seems really inefficient for omniscience.”

          Dipper shrugged, something she was beginning to think was a habit.  “Semi-omniscient, then?”

          “What?  That doesn’t make sense.  You know the definition for omniscient, right?”

          “Of course I do – I’m omniscient.”

          Pacifica looked up toward him with an incredulous expression.  He failed to suppress a smirk, instead bring the book a little higher over his face.

          “What did you even come here for, smart-ass?”

          Dipper tapped the book on the end table, sliding it over towards her.  “I figured Grunkle Stan should have a look at that.  Or at least, it shouldn’t be floating around in public.”

          Pacifica flicked through a few pages of the demonology book, skimming over the data offered.  “What’s so bad about these?”

          “They’ve got the summoning circles of some nasty demons,” Dipper rationalized.  “Summoning one of them by accident or as a joke would be  _very bad_.”

          “Well, you could find all this online, couldn’t you? So what’s the problem?”  The girl rolled onto her back, holding the book above her face.

          “It’s because those circles are actually  _correct._ ”  Pacifica nearly dropped the tome on her face.  “If you find something online, you have to double check, find a reliable source, and make sure the incantation is right.  It’s enough to discourage most casual demon summoning.  That book just presents all the correct information, no questions asked. A four-year-old could pick that up and summon me, in theory.”

          Pacifica gingerly set aside the book, sliding it back to Dipper for good measure.  They eased into comfortable silence for the next half hour, one reading, and the other content to relax and recover.  After a while the boy tossed his novel onto the table with a disappointed sigh.  Apparently, omniscience could still make it hard to enjoy a murder mystery.  However, as Dipper put it, “Mabel is the biggest mystery off all, so might has well go find her.”

          The scene the two walked in on had them rethinking this plan.  The brunette had wreaked havoc in a craft store, darting past the entrance while glitter exploded in their faces.  Dipper had a sneaking suspicion that the paint splatters on the walls had something to do with the water balloons he had spotted in his twin’s possession. Tracking Mabel down was like trying to nail jelly to a tree.  While Pacifica attempted to calm her, sending her companion a  _you-so-owe-me_  glare, Dipper plastered on his best conman grin to meet the befuddled manager.  When Mabel had come down from her sugar rush (if smile dip wasn’t illegal here, he would have suspected its involvement in this whole fiasco), her lip quivered and her eyes watered a little, a puppy dog face that would make their Grunkle proud.

          The three friends shared a laugh at their smooth escape, leaving completely unscathed.  It wasn’t long until the sun began to disappear behind the city horizon, orange bleeding slowly into the hidden skyline.  

          “So, do you think you can stay with us for the night?” Mabel’s question caught Pacifica off-guard.  She’d forgotten about the invitation.  Her smile twisted to a grimace.  She wasn’t sure she could keep up with these two for the rest of the night, not to mention how she’d get her parents to agree.  She silently shook her head, and neither of them argued.  Mabel did, however, call up her parents again, demanding they give her a ride back to the hotel, at the very least.  

          The blonde reminded herself not to make assumptions about the van that pulled up to the park to pick them up.  It was actually a fairly good model, much better than that death trap from Gravity Falls.  Upon entering, she couldn’t help but long for the old station wagon anyways.  This felt … off.  This afternoon, she hadn’t a problem falling into conversation with the Pines, demon brother or not, but it suddenly seemed like one of the bumps in the road had dislodged a gear in their conversation.  It was grinding and sputtering, though it was hard to tell over Mabel constantly filling any lapse of dialog.  Mr. Pines had been pleasant, smiling and waving from the driver’s seat. He asked polite questions  _(“You’re from Gravity Falls?  These two haven’t been giving you too much trouble, have they?”_ ) but that ended quickly, leaving a tense silence in its absence.  Mabel either took no notice, or was doggedly ignoring the atmosphere.  Dipper didn’t say a word, staring at the floor boards, or out the window.  He muttered something to his sister upon entering the car, but she hadn’t paid attention.  

          The drive was short – it felt so much longer – and Pacifica watched the car merge back into the Oakland traffic and disappear. She couldn’t shake some disquieting feeling.  It clung to her skin like grease; oily, and foul smelling, and making her crave a shower to wash her hands of the matter.  She lingered a bit too long in the lobby, none too eager to rejoin the Northwests.  Perhaps she would get lucky, and they would still be out.  The sinking feeling in her gut made a ridicule of the hope – the party was tomorrow night, why would they still be out?

          Pacifica gripped her bags a little tighter, her resolve doubling.  They couldn’t make her regret the fun she had this afternoon.  She wouldn’t let them.  Even when the door betrayed her entrance with an uncharacteristic squeak, and two sets of eyes turned to glare daggers, she repeated the promise in her head.   _I don’t regret it.  I won’t regret them._

*******

Pacifica didn’t go out the next day.  She didn’t catch heads nor tails of the Pines twins.  She lounged by the pool, ignored the videogames in their room, and remained quiet and out of sight for the whole day.  The reason for their trip rolled around, and sure enough, she was forced along to a side event for the teens and kids.

          She clung to the walls, surrounded by unfamiliar faces, and sipped punch.  Even that was soon forsaken, a bitter taste ruining the flavor.  After seeing certain teenagers stumbling around the dance floor, she had no doubts that it was spiked –  _idiots._   She turned away one of the younger kids, scaring them off when they threw a fit like the spoiled brats they were.  Not that she was much better, honestly.  After more than a few near-spills on her dress, she stopped caring.  If kids weren’t going to listen to what she knew was best for them, well, she wasn’t their parents.  She wasn’t a babysitter.  She wandered to the garden, wrinkling her nose when she found another group of smashed boys clumped around the fountain.  A few of them waved, another whistled, and Pacifica pointed dumped her drink into the nearest plant.  

          Everyone here was distasteful and refused to act their age.  Perhaps she hadn’t realized until now, but in the isolated walls of the Northwest Manor, she had never been exposed to normal youth behavior.  Any parties had adults and were high class matters.  They were nothing like this … this … _poor excuse_  for an after prom party.

          Pacifica didn’t care what her parents would say – she left.  A small voice in the back of her head whispered that most parents would be proud, but she ground that annoyance under her metaphorical heel.  She pulled out her phone, mapping the most direct path back to the hotel.  She followed the highlighted blue path without a second thought.  The blonde noted the sign of the park as she entered; mentally checking she was on the right path.  Apparently, the fastest way back to Grand Avenue was through the park. She recognized the name with a jolt – Piedmont Park.  She wondered if the Pines residence was close by, not that she could stay there.  She would be in enough trouble as it was.  

          A soft noise reached her in the stillness.  She could hardly see, and she spun her phone thoughtfully.  She switched from the map to the flashlight, ignoring her parent’s voices in her mind getting louder.  She might have been sealed away, but she still grew up in Gravity Falls.  That came with a certain amount of ability to deal with unexpectedly dangerous situations.  Her confidence wavered when the noise clarified to shouting, wrought with sobs. She was even less sure when she discovered the source came from a playground, specifically the figure curled up on a swing.  The girl was alone, and her voice was shushed, but she continued to stutter angrily, fighting back the tears.

          Pacifica realized with a start that it was Mabel. She was talking to Dipper, somewhere hidden from her sight.  Pacifica was far from hidden from him, it seemed, as a heavy weight settled around her. Mabel snorted, rubbing her nose and looking up as well, moments before the weight became light, still present, but the hostility absent.

          “P-Pacifica?”  That scratchy, hoarse voice could not belong to Mabel.  Still, her legs carried her closer, hovering a few feet away like an uninvited guest.  

          “What’s –” she coughed and cleared her throat – a Northwest’s voice wasn’t supposed to crack like that, “What’re you doing out here?”

          Mabel’s laughs weren’t supposed to be sad, but this one was.  Her joy and energy that had always seemed constant had vacated the premises.  “I should be asking that.”  She tried for a smile and patted the swing next to hers.  Her heels dug into the mulch mixture lining the ground, and she swung gently forward.

          Pacifica was at a loss.  She took the offered seat, though, because there was no way she could walk away.  Her friend had been there every single time she had called.  It was time to return the favor.

          “What are you doing out here,” Mabel asked through fading sniffles, whipping her eyes with the back of her hand and a grin automatically forcing her lips apart.  She glanced to the side, reaching out to grasp an invisible hand even when she turned back to the blonde.  

          “I … got bored,” Pacifica finished lamely, kicking her swing into motion out of frustration.  “Stop changing the subject.”

          Mabel’s expression faltered for less than a second. “Your parents?”

          Pacifica narrowed her eyes.  “A bad party,” she remarked.  “Why are you avoiding the problem?”

          Mabel laughed lightly – it was her normal, wonderful laugh, but that made it horrendous, – and focused on swinging higher. “I never knew you were such a worry-wart, Paz!”  That was a lie.  “You’re nearly as bad as Dipper!”  She certainly hoped not.  The brunette’s hand squeezed subtly on its unseen partner.  “Geez, Paz, it’s nothing you have to worry about.”

          Pacifica snatched the chains of the other swing, wrenching Mabel to a stop.  She leaned into her face once her seat had ceased bucking, scowling fiercely and not about to let this go.  “Look me in the eye and tell me nothing is wrong.”

          Their eyes met and Pacifica feared, for a moment, that after years of living with a conman and a demon, Mabel would do just that. Her gaze wavered, though, darting to the ground before coming back up, to her brother, then to her friend.  Her smile returned shakily, her eyes scrunched but try as she might to pass it off as part of the smile, there were tears there. “It’ll pass,” she whispered hoarsely, “It never lasts.”

          “What won’t last?”  Pacifica refused to let go; only looking over when a particularly harsh gust of wind shook the trees.  “Did something happen at school,” she added, suddenly remembering Dipper seething about cruel children who bullied that weirdo Mabel.

          Mabel blinked in genuine surprise.  “Did you tell her about that?”  Mabel looked to where Dipper assuredly floated.  She remained silent for moment, but nodded seemingly pleased with whatever answer he had offered.  Mabel laughed again, weak and wobbling, but true.  “Nah, those guys are idiots.  I’m much more worried about  _this idiot_.”  Her grin faltered at her brother, wincing slightly before covering it smoothly.  

          “It’s something with Dipper,” Pacifica caught on. Mabel stared at the finely manicured nails holding her swing, sullenly toeing the dirt.  “What happened,” Pacifica began scrolling through the names of all the people who knew about Dipper becoming a demon.  The trees shuddered, trunks and all, and Pacifica was beginning to wonder if her mental search was a lost cause.  Anyone could have upset Dipper, a random cult, or a close friend, but she couldn’t decide who could have hurt Mabel without invoking the wrath of an incredibly powerful demon.  

          Mabel scrunched her nose, sniffling against her wishes, and tugged her floating hand closer.  She attempted to smile, staring above and to the left of Paz’s blonde hair. “Hey Bro-Bro, what’s with the long face? Come on, it’s going to be fine.” Mabel sounded like she was trying to convince herself as well.  She hiccupped, her knees curling up to her chest.  She pulled her sibling down farther, voice cracking with desperation. “It’s going to be fine, right?” Tears were smudging her rosy cheeks, and her hair was pushed back.  She tucked her head, butting against a shoulder Pacifica couldn’t see.  “It has to be fine,” she choked out, somewhere between a chuckle and sob.  “Dipper, it has to be. It  _will be.”_

          Pacifica felt more useless than ever.  Ignoring the strange feeling of hugging air, she stood and clutched her friends close.  Under her arms, she felt a form solidify, quiet murmurs drifting to her ears. Dipper’s face was pressed into his twin’s hair, but he was shaking just as bad, and she was willing to bet there were tears in those eyes too.  Pacifica stood with the twins for another minute, letting them cry it out.  She couldn’t relinquish the nagging question of what had caused this, who did she need to find, who was she going to have to destroy for causing harm to her dearest friends… .  Maybe she had spent a tad too much time with Dipper.

          “It’s okay Bro,” Mabel’s voice warbled, sounding less convincing than ever, the effort audible in every syllable.  “Everything will get better.”

          “Mabel …” Dipper didn’t move, letting his sentence trail off into dismayed silence.  “Sorry,” it started softly, but grew louder and more gut-wrenching with every recitation. “It’s my fault,” he sputtered, pushing back to rub gold-stained cheeks.  “It’s not fair to you; you shouldn’t have to deal with it, Mabel. It-It’s my fault, they shouldn’t – you shouldn’t –“

          Mabel lunged forward, wrapping her brother in a fierce hug, and leaving Pacifica to fumble to keep the girl on her swing.  She had returned to her mantra, “It’s going to get better,” “It’s not your fault,” “We’re in this together,” all finding their way past her lips.

          “ ** _Stop it!”_**   The sudden demonic echo caused Pacifica to jump, her grip tightening on Mabel’s arm.  Dipper’s face was contorted in agony, his molten tears sizzling as they fell, burning holes in his sister’s sweater.   _“It’s not going to get better, Mabel!”_ A limb snapped from an oak tree, crashing to the ground nearby.  Dipper took a few deep breaths, not noticing his body curl tighter into a ball. “Mabel, it’s only getting worse. This” Dipper broke off, his jacket sleeves ripping under his claws. “This is the third time.  Mabel, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, I-I  _tried_ , but I don’t – I don’t know how to—”

          “You found out?”  Mabel didn’t seem mad, just quietly resigned.  Tired.  She pulled her brother back into her arms, resting her head on top of his, not saying a word.  She glanced over to Pacifica, seemingly remembering her friend’s presence.  The look in her eyes scared the blonde more than anything.  Her bright, beautiful brown eyes were dull with tears and failures; the hope that lit them died out and smothered somewhere deep down.  “Dream catchers,” she said simply.  “Dipper gets stuck in them – he’s a dream demon.”  Mabel turned back to staring at the tree line, hugging her twin tighter.  “I keep taking them down, but they keep putting them back up.”  It wasn’t hard for Pacifica understand she was referring to their parents.  

          “It’s fine,” Dipper interrupted.  He didn’t move.  His voice held the same tone as his sister’s eyes.  “Mabel, I’ll be okay.  Just … you don’t have to.  Please,  _please,_  just – you don’t have to fight with them. I’ll be okay.”

          Mabel stiffened.  “No!”  Her old passion was flaring up in the form of anger, sparks dancing into her eyes once more. “No, it’s not okay!  They’re our parents, and I’m not going to pretend that you’re dead just to make them comfortable!  You’re still you, you’re their son, and they can’t keep trying to hurt you!  I won’t let them!”

          “They’re just scared, Mabel… .”

          “They shouldn’t be!”  Even Pacifica flinched at the rage contained in that small voice. “Dipper,” she spun him around and forced him to look her in the eye, “you’re still you, and I’m not going to stand by if anyone tries to say differently!  I don’t care who they are!”

          Dipper stayed quiet, holding her hand while she continued her tirade.  Hope was nearly tangible around him, and he scowled at it ( _He knew it was only going to stab him in the back, in the end, these stupid, human emotions, because he saw humans at their worse, because they always destroyed what they were scared of)_.  Pacifica listened, also silent, though she doubted Mabel even remembered she was there, at times.

          It was late.  Mark and Anna Pines shouting voices eventually came back to them, searching for their lost daughter.  They were so worried, after she had stormed out of the house and hadn’t come back for hours.  Mabel looked them in the eye and told them “I was never in danger, Dipper is with me.” The van was parked at the curb, abandoned at the entrance of the park.  Mabel didn’t say a word, walking towards home without acknowledging the car. Her parents didn’t protest, and drove slowly behind her, watching her shadow thrown far out in front of her, occasionally turning to blink gold eyes at them and mouth moving as it whispered to their daughter.  They never asked about their son.  

          Pacifica returned to the hotel before her parents, and they left Oakland the next day.  Mabel didn’t bring up the incident in their phone calls.

          A few months passed, and summer rolled around.  The Pines twins returned to Gravity Falls, moving in permanently with their Grunkle Stan.  Neither Mabel nor Dipper brought up why, and Pacifica didn’t ask.  She already knew what it was like to wear a doll’s mask, and one month later, she knew what it was like to take it off, and leave the dollhouse for good.


End file.
